Mass Effect: The Anima Chronicles
by Madness Hero
Summary: With the universe at stake, the clandestine group known as Cerberus has recruited a powerful and solitary warrior. With the help of a team consisting of people from many different worlds, he will try and defeat an enemy as mysterious as he is powerful.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

Having recently completed Mass Effect 2 for the third time, I was left wondering what my own personal dream team would look like, and the answer is a collection of characters and locations spanning many video games, books, and films. The gathering of said dream team and their subsequent mission is the subject of this fanfic. This story is a crossover in the purest sense of the word, not just in characters (everything ranging from final fantasy to star ocean) but also in races and locations. So many times in sci-fi the universes seem empty, but part of the great thing about writing a fanfic is being able to borrow from so many other works. Pretty much every space set anime, video game, movie, etc. of the last 20 years is fair game, from Xenomorphs to Elicoorians, from Jurians to Krogan. All belong to their respective creators, but this fic is mine, and so is old one eye, a character that I created and have been writing and imagining adventures for since before I could walk upright. (although he has had man inspirations, including Blondie [Clint Eastwood] from the Good the Bad and the Ugly, Wolverine from X-Men, Roland from the Dark Tower series, Mad Max from The Road Warrior, and of course Snake Plissken from Escape from New York. I've rated this fic M for some pretty strong violence, language and possibly some sexual content in later chapters. Finally, like most around here I'm starved for feedback, regardless of your thoughts/gripes/suggestions, I want to hear them, I welcome pm's, and if you take the time to write one, ill always find the time to respond. I really hope you enjoy this fic. That's enough from me, as old one eye would say, "Sometimes moving forward is all we have."

* * *

Chapter One

The Illusive man took a long drag on his cigarette, the bluish smoke curling around the massive room, the light from the nearby star the only illumination. The Illusive man's eye's, fixed on the datapad in front of him, narrowed, the cybernetic implants in the iris of each eye becoming glowing slits in the dark office. He shifted his weight in the chair, its automated systems adjusting to the movement. Two failures. Two worthwhile assets that had not been up to the task laid out for them, two skilled individuals who had met a grisly end. It was not the loss of life that bothered the illusive man, but the loss of resources. Loss of life was an acceptable part of any mission, but that these men had died, taking billions of credits with them, was totally unacceptable. Men, money, material. The level of waste was disconcerting to say the least. But the prize was worth it. If there was even a chance it could fall into his hands, into Cerberus's hands, then any cost could and should be paid.

The third name on the datapad stared up at him, the soft glow flickering for a moment as a new wave of bluish smoke washed over the datapad's surface. The Illusive man's eyes left the datapad, flicking to the woman standing in front of him. The woman was one of Cerberus's best, her capabilities without match within the organization. As an advisor she was no Miranda Lawson, but she was more than capable enough to fill in for her. But her name was fourth on the list, a fact that she no doubt took in stride, she was loyal to the cause, and loyal to him. If he said she was the fourth best option, she was not going to argue otherwise. His eyes returning to the datapad, resting again on the third name. The Illusive man was now faced with a rather unpleasant choice: resign the mission to failure, and abandon the project, or appoint a non human to lead the operation. And not just any non human either, a Klausian.

The Klausian race had become somewhat famous throughout the known universe, for while they numbered only a few million in total population, their incredible combat skill, coupled with their dazzling intellect, had made them a very valuable commodity. Sadly very few were inclined to get themselves involved in something as morally ambiguous as merc work, but the few who had had become truly famous. As a species they were often thought of as humanoid Krogan, which while a fair comparison for their physical abilities both in terms of strength and longevity, it most certainly did not do justice to their intellect, which on average rivaled the best and brightest in the galaxy. 'Warrior philosophers' was what Klausian meant in their own speech, to wage war, but to do it for a just cause above all else, was their mantra. They were solitary and self reliant, yet powerful and cunning. A truly fearsome mix. In physical appearance they appeared to be very tall and fit humans, their primary distinguishing feature from humans being three black rings encircling their necks. These rings represented bundles of nerves that controlled everything from their incredible immune and defensive systems (Klausians were immune to most poisons and diseases) to their increased higher brain function (and some say, their telepathy, although it has not been scientifically proven that Klausians possess telepathic abilities). They could not use biotics, and no Klausian had ever received implants (none that were known of, anyway), seeing it as a crutch and even an insult to their way of life. And yet from Cerberus's own reports they seemed oddly resistant to the mass effect fields generated by biotics, and their combat abilities seemed to hint at a level of pre-cognition that seemed quite impossible. And it was this natural resistance to both biotics and telepathy that made this choice so plain.

"He was the best man for the job from the beginning." The Illusive man spoke out loud at last, and the woman shifted her tall thin frame at the sound of his voice. "I had hoped our genetically altered agents would have been sufficient. It's clear that was not the case." The woman did not speak, but her eyes drifted to a hovering display screen to the Illusive Man's left. The portraits and files of the two failed agents were there, under the first portrait was a short summary of the man's last mission. The mission had ended when the man had fallen under their enemy's (code named Mantis) telepathic influence and driven his ship, crew and all, into a black hole. The second hadn't faired much better. He had caught up with their enemy on Vanguard III, where he had been reduced to a babbling idiot, technically brain dead from code name Mantis' psychic assault. He had since been repurposed by Cerberus. His crew had fallen into their enemy's hands, and after he had his fun, he had spaced their corpses into the area around the citadel for all to see. A clear statement of sinister defiance against Cerberus' efforts.

Her eyes shifted to the Illusive man's right, where the picture and file on the Klausian now floated. The picture was impressive to say the least. The man's short dark hair framed a chiseled face, a ghost of dark stubble running from chin to ears. A single faint scar that ran from just above the eyebrow under the eye patch over his left eye not detracting from the rugged appearance but adding to it. The one good eye was dark gray, and seemed to hint at an internal fortitude beyond imagining. It gave her a chill to look at it, his face was that of the coldest killer. The Klausian species itself was a wonder, its abilities incredible, its history bloody, the people stoic and as mysterious as they were rare. But among them all this one stood out. Not in the conventional sense, of course, the average citadel alliance citizen couldn't possible know the man, but among mercenaries, organized crime outfits, military groups, and among his own people, he was quite well know. The Klausian name for this man was unknown, as his people acknowledged him only with the honorific of Executor, a title of immense respect and admiration that usually took centuries to obtain. The politicians and officials of the citadel fleets called him by a similarly difficult to obtain title, Specter.

The woman was silent still, but shifted her weight again, a subtle gesture not lost on the Illusive man.

"If you have something to say, I would hear it" He intoned, his voice neutral. He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray built into his chair, his eyes returning to the rooms only other occupant. "You're not in the special tactics and rescue service any longer, in Cerberus we value all input. And after all that's why I called you up here."

"Very well." The woman spoke at last, reaching up to brush a rogue strand of brown hair from her face. "Eight seconds." She paused for effect, turning to the Illusive man. He was silent, his hand returning the cigarette to his mouth. "Three years ago this man, this Klausian, missed killing you by eight seconds. No one else in the history of Cerberus has come even remotely close. People who have worked under you their entire lives haven't gotten that close. But this man pierced a veil of lies and counter intelligence even the shadow broker himself has been unable crack. Back then he deemed your death crucial to peace in citadel space. The fact that he never made a second attempt in no way leads me to believe that his mind has changed in this regard." She took a breath, her eyes going back to the Klausians picture. "Not to mention our conservative estimate puts the deaths of nearly fifty Cerberus agents squarely on his head."

"Personally I think the actual number is closer to a hundred." The Illusive man quietly interjected.

She turned, folding her arms. "I'm being serious."

"So am I." The Illusive man took a long drag. "That's why recruiting him would mean convincing him my life, and the lives of all Cerberus personnel are worth allowing to continue, once he knows what we're after I think even he will agree there are bigger things at stake."

This statement was greeted by a sharp intake of breath. "You mean you're actually going to tell him about the relics?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

The Illusive man gave a grim smile. "You haven't dealt with many Klausians, have you?"

His companion sighed, but didn't answer.

"If I lie, he'll know, if we try and betray him outright, he will be a dozen steps ahead, ready to turn it all back on us. And consequently, if we try to hide the existence of the relics from him, something he already suspects, he will never help us. Of course we're not going to tell him everything, but we have to be forthright enough for him to join us. And if things go as planned there will be plenty of opportunities to…" He stopped. Took another drag. "Well, we'll cross that road when it lies before us."

"It seems like a lot of effort for someone you admit will be very hard to control and even harder to manipulate."

The Illusive man's eyes narrowed again, the glow of the cigarette illuminating his face for a moment. "The prize is worth it. And that means so is he."

The room was silent for a moment. "He's a Specter, and a Klausian. That means he works alone and prefers it that way, your really think he'll change that for us?"

"It won't be easy to convince him of course, but that's why I'm sending you." A hint of a smile played across the Illusive man's face.

"Yes sir." She didn't see any point in arguing further. "Assuming we can get him, and that's a huge assumption, he'll want his own team, he might take some of our crew members, but as for people he'll take into combat, he'd never take anyone we'd provide."

"That's not your concern. For now you need to concentrate on contacting him, and convincing him you at least are trustworthy enough."

It was not her habit to speak out after such an obvious dismissal, but she couldn't help asking one last question. "And if I cannot convince him?"

The Illusive man was quiet for a long time, the only sounds in the room the sound of his breath as he slowly inhaled the cigarette. At last he spoke. "If you are not able to convince him I will be without another asset." He said simply.

* * *

Night cycle in the shipping district of Zakera Ward could be a frightening thing, especially since the Geth attack on the Citadel. C-Sec did their best of course, but the volatile cocktail of organized crime and merc bands, not to mention the odd desperate mugger or two, often meant those unarmed and alone avoided the place like the plague. This sadly was not an option for Fael'Elos vas Ornion, who did not have a credit to her name, and as a Quarian on pilgrimage, was shunned by the Citadel society at large. So here, on the edge of Zakera Ward, she lay in the dark recesses of an alley, trying to get some sleep.

After a time she lifted her head, in essence giving up on getting any meaningful rest. She wasn't going to cry tonight, by Keelah she wasn't going to cry tonight. She had to be strong, finish her pilgrimage and return to her family back at the migrant fleet. But it was hard, everyone here treated her like the lowest filth in the universe, C-Sec was suspicious of her, the citizenry ignored her, and the criminal element, if they found her in their territory, would enjoy killing her. Maybe she should try and head to the shelter after all? She knew if she went she would be taunted and spit on by the other homeless of the Citadel, but maybe that was better than worrying about what would happen to her if… no she couldn't even think of it. She ran her hand over the faceplate of her enviro suit, holding back the sobs that threatened to escape.

"No, no, no…" She whispered. She couldn't break down now. She had to be brave, like her grandfather. Why did it have to be this hard? Why couldn't she just go home?

She focused everything she had into strengthening her resolve, to stop the tears from coming, and if she hadn't been trying so hard to stop these sobs, she would have seen them. Three bulky figures came through the gloom, moving through the alleyway at a fast walk, their thick armor making soft noises in the confined space. The first of the three figures, a Batarian, swore loudly as he stumbled over her outstretched leg.

"The fuck do we have here?" Said the second in line, the human curse word indicating the race of the second figure. "A goddamned mask breather, in Blue Suns territory?"

The Batarian had caught himself on the opposite wall. As he straightened up, Fael was nearly paralyzed with fear at what she saw. The white and blue emblem of the Blue Suns mercenary band was visible across his chest plate in the dim light, as was an immense assault rifle strapped to the Batarian's back.

"You little rat…" The Batarian began, turning to face Fael as he did. Without breaking her gaze he continued. "No offense, Yar."

The third in the group, a Roakian with distinctive rat like features snarled down at her. "None taken, Sarel. Let's frag this bitch and get back to the warehouse, Shelia will have our quads if we're not back on time." The last was punctuated by a snide giggle, the rat face twisting gleefully in the dim light.

Fael shook with fear. Oh Keelah, it couldn't end like this, it just couldn't. The faces of her family rose to her minds eye, and she buried her head in her hands, too paralyzed with fear even to beg for her life.

"I doubt even C-Sec would care if we put down this sewer scum." The Batarian named Sarel said, pulling a heavy pistol from his belt. "Always wondered what happens when you blow those suits open. Guess we're gonna find out boys."

Fael heard the snap of the pistol as it was cocked. Still unable to look up at the men that would surely end her life, she waited for the end to come.

And the end did come, But not for her.

There was a long, eerily quiet pause, at last Fael lifted her head to at the mercs standing over her.

"S-Sarel?" The Roakian stuttered, his eyes so wide it was almost comic.

Fael's eyes focused on the Batarian, and soon their size widened to match the Roakian's. A thin, crimson line ran across the Batarian's throat, barley visible in the dim light of the alley. All four of the Batarian's eyes had lost focus, and were even now starting to gloss over. With a horrid squirting sound, the head toppled, the off color blood of the Batarian gushing out of the wound. The two remaining mercs stood as if frozen, the impossible nature of what they had just seen rendering them speechless. The human made a half turn to face the still standing body of his companion, and as he did so, an immense shadow shifted with him.

"No, not a shadow." Fael thought, her mind spinning wildly. "A man!"

The glint of some sort of metal caught Fael's eye, and she saw now that a long, single edged blade, a sword unlike any she had ever seen, had been slid into a gap in the human's armor just below the left armpit, the tip of which now protruded from the base of the human's neck. The human opened his mouth as if to say something, then collapsed as the blade was withdrawn.

The Roakian was fumbling violently with his sidearm now, his eyes riveted to the solemn shadow standing over the dead human. With an incredible level of fluidity and grace, the shadow turned as the Roakian brought up his pistol. The blade flashed again, cutting through armor, shield, flesh, bone. The arm of the Roakian was severed, the pistol falling from the now limp fingers. The Roakian reared back, taking a deep breath to let loose a scream of terror and pain. No note was uttered. With a simple thrust the blade entered the creatures alien heart. Death was instant.

It was over now, and still sitting on the cold alley street, Fael'Elos vas Ornion trembled. The shadow turned, a single eye glinting in the darkness. It was not rage, or evil she saw in that eye, but a kind of grim sadness. She opened her mouth but no words came. She tried to call out but she couldn't. Movement above her caught her eye. She looked up quickly, to see a single drop of the Batarian's blood running lazily down her faceplate. When her eyes darted back to the shadowy figure, he was gone.

She sat there for awhile longer, the sounds of Zakera Ward night life barley audible in the distance. After a time she stood up and departed, ignoring the three corpses in the alleyway. She set off in the direction of the local shelter. She would endure their insults tonight, and though she had been more scared in the last few minutes than she could ever remember being, she would not shed a tear. As she departed, she couldn't help but look back over her shoulder, half hoping, half fearing to see the figure return. Nothing greeted her sight but the now empty alleyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Dreamer lifted his gaze to the sky, his red eyes reflecting the vast expanse above him. A dozen moons dotted the crimson void, and a single sun shone down on this world, a red giant whose light and radiation beat down with tremendous force. Strong winds swept the dark sand around the Dreamer, his cloak swirled with it, the red and black cloth dancing around him.

The Dreamer looked down, his eyes meeting the horizon. It wasn't real of course, this world. A figment of his guilty imagination. Another nightmare to punish his wickedness. He could accept that, this was his penance, he had to atone for being so weak, for allowing such terrible things to happen, it was the only way.

He knew it was a dream by looking at his hands, in his dreams his left arm was there again, not a twisted borg implant, but his real flesh and blood arm, both it and his body could feel pain again, where as in the waking world his body was immune to it, a finely honed killing machine that felt no pain or fear, only all consuming guilt.

His mind raced, these moments of lucidity were rare, and thus he could not help but form questions in his mind. How long had he slept? How many nightmares had come and gone? How much longer would it take to for him to fully atone? And what was his name? No answers were forthcoming, and of all the questions, the last was the most perplexing. He remembered what he had done, remembered why he had to dream, but his name escaped him. It was such a silly thing, not being able to remember ones own name, perhaps he had been sleeping longer than he had thought.

He could hear sounds of battle in the distance now, the clatter of small arms fire, the report of explosions, the smell of burning flesh carried on the wind. Soon the nightmare would begin in earnest, he would let it come, he had to. He strode forward, his metallic boots carving a swath through the dark sand. Just over the next dune and he'd see it, a terrible battle that he had helped instigate long ago, and he would feel every last impact, every last thrill of fear, every last dying breath. He would see, hear, and feel everything, and he would atone. As he scaled the dune he saw a small figure, a young human girl with long red hair in tattered garments sitting at the dune's crest, facing away from him towards the battle below. He approached her swiftly, unable to compute the meaning of her presence.

"The one eyed man is coming." The voice was sad, and it made the Dreamer's heart ache at the sound. "The time for dreaming is almost at an end." She continued, still not facing away from the battle that was even now unfolding at the base of the massive dune.

The Dreamer did not speak at first, he only moved to stand next to her, his red eyes observing the carnage below. After a moment of contemplation, at last he spoke. "I have not fully atoned. I will continue to live in these hellish nightmares until my physical body wastes away. When I am dust, that is when the dreaming will end."

"This is not your choice." Was the curious reply. "The one eyed man needs help, without you, many more lives will end, more than you can fathom."

The Dreamer had never experienced anything like this, dozens of questions rose to mind. Who was this girl? Who was the one eyed man? What could all this mean?

The red haired girl smiled, turning to him at last, her brilliant green eyes sparkling with a deep intelligence. The intensity within them threatening to envelope the dreamer.

"The only question you need ask lies within yourself." She said

"What is my name?" The Dreamer asked aloud, unable to break the girl's gaze. She was silent, the soft smile turning into a knowing one.

The dream changed around him, images, faces, places, all swirled. An office on board the great capital of the known galaxy, the Citadel. He recognized the room, it was an office in the building that housed the station's law enforcement. Citadel Security, often called C-Sec. This was his office. The name plate on the desk was blurred, and the Dreamer pushed forward, using strength of will to spur him. He had to hurry, already the dream was changing back to the hellish planet from before. At last he could read it, and with a surge of triumph he read it aloud.

As the last syllable faded into the nothingness around him, the voice of the red haired girl echoed in his mind.

"Nice work, Mr. Vincent Valentine."

* * *

The Klausian moved quickly through the shadows of Zakera Ward, his movements rendered silent by centuries of training and experience, his mind focused on the task for the night. His systematic elimination of guard units surrounding the Blue Suns warehouse was nearly complete, a few more and the operation could begin in earnest. Another merc fell, the killing blow was like the others, as quiet and methodical as it was lethal. A blade flashing in the night as it claimed a life. The rustle of his long black trench coat the only noise made. The Klausian's internal clock measured every second that passed, it was only a matter of time before the Blue Suns captain realized her guards weren't reporting in. If his timing was right, and it always was, the second she realized this would be just a few before she died.

Two Turians stood facing each other at the warehouse's rear loading dock, engaged in conversation as they smoked, their assault rifles gripped loosely in their hands. Over a hundred yards of well lit open ground lay between the Turians and the catwalk the Klausian was now perched on. The sword was sheathed, and a silenced sniper rifle was brought up to the Klausian's one good eye. Two quiet thunking noises sounded in the dim light, the two bullets fired so close together the sounds were indistinguishable from one another. Both Turians fell, a hole at the base of each of their skulls.

Movement down the alleyway to his far left caught the Klausian's attention, and he was just able to catch himself before he fired. Six times. He could have killed the human woman following him a total of six times over by now if he had had a mind to. She was fast, and she was skilled, but she knew not with whom she was dealing with. A century or so ago and she might have taken him to task, now though she was testing only his patience. He would never kill someone he was not fully convinced deserved to die, but the honed instincts of a Klausian warrior were a difficult thing to hold back, especially in the middle of an operation where he had already felled nearly a dozen people.

The Klausian willed his mind to clear itself of stray thoughts, years of practice making the exercise an easy one. Raising the rifle once more, the Klausian fired eight shots from the silenced rifle, each one shattering a light source along the open ground leading to the warehouse door. With the ninth shot the control panel to the left of the entrance was destroyed, releasing the lock that held it in place. Setting the rifle aside to be retrieved later, the Klausian was already half way across the open ground by the time the building's security system had registered the hit and activated the alarm.

* * *

Shelia of the Blue Suns inspected the product closely before sampling just a little. Across from her in the dim warehouse a human in a dark suit fidgeted nervously. The Asari allowed herself a little smile as she felt it hit her. It was red sand alright, and pretty potent too. The crates of weapons would need to be inspected, but the other mercs could do that for her. She generally didn't attend these kinds of exchanges, her paranoia about C-Sec and other agencies trying to bring her in, as well as the mafia lords looking to get rid of the competition, was intense. But between the red sand and the shipment of guns the Blue Suns had nearly ten million credits invested in this exchange, that amount of cash meant a personal appearance was almost mandatory.

"It's good, start getting this stuff loaded, it needs to be on the streets in an hour." Moving quickly to fulfill her orders, the ten or so Blue Suns mercs that had accompanied her began crawling over the containers. She turned and moved elegantly towards the still fidgeting human in the suit. She felt his eyes lock onto her body as she approached. Men in general were so predictable, but humans even more so. Even through her thick blue and white armor the human was all but drooling over her figure. She gave him an evil smile, suppressing her first impulse to put a hole in his head right then and there. Their contact in the Terminus systems wouldn't much appreciate her sending a dead accountant back to him. Instead she summoned her biotics, a faint blue haze appearing around her as she did so, and with a not too delicate push, dumped the scrawny human on his ass. She kept moving past as the human tried to collect himself. As the mercs began unloading the guns and drugs, she moved to stand next to the only other Asari in the room, her second in command for many years and a former Asari commando like herself by the name of Rajeh. She and Rajeh were unique in the organization. Most Asari joined Eclipse if they felt the need to become a merc, but the Blue Suns had been a better fit, here she wasn't just one Asari among many, no she was a valued asset, and that meant her rise to captaincy was a matter of course.

"The other patrols have stopped reporting in." Rajeh whispered to her as she drew close, the permanent look of paranoid concern on the Asari's face was something Shelia was used to.

"Even if we do have a rat scurrying about, there's no way that he could take out all our patrols. Its probably just a jammer, and if the mafia thinks they can send their thugs in against trained mercs, I'd love to see them try." Shelia replied, dismissing her worry with a wave of her hand.

"And if its C-Sec?" Rajeh countered, looking her in the eye.

"We have half a dozen officers on the payroll, with strict orders to message me personally if a raid seems even remotely possible. You really need to relax, Raj."

Rajeh sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Sorry Shel, but I've got a bad feeling about this one, we need to get this shit loaded and get the hell out of here."

Shelia was turning back towards the containers, a response already prepared, when sudden movement, and a faint clink noise, drew her attention. Her eyes focused on a small object moving almost lazily towards a crate of assault rifles. She tensed as she realized what it was, and opened her mouth to yell a warning when the small fragmentation grenade exploded, igniting the clips inside the crate as along with it. Fire whooshed through the warehouse, and debris pelted the Asari as she was thrown against the wall by the force of the blast. Coughing heavily she pulled the pistol she carried at the small of her back, trying to see through the flames and gathering smoke.

"Dammit!" She swore as she picked herself up. How could someone have gotten this close? She cast her gaze around, trying to determine how many had been felled by the initial blast.

One of her mercs, a human, was picking himself up off the floor when a figure appeared from the haze. It was a tall humanoid carrying a sword like the Asari justicars used to carry a dozen or so millennia ago, long and thin, with only one edge. The man himself wore a long black trench coat that waved behind him, and across his chest was what looked like a black vest of armor, thick enough to provide protection but light enough to allow ease of movement. But his most distinguishing mark was the black eye patch covering his left eye. The human didn't stand a chance, the sword raked his chest, shredding the thick Blue Suns armor with apparent ease, and disemboweling the man.

"KILL HIM!" Shelia heard herself shriek, and with a sudden blue light that rivaled that of the growing fires, she launched a vicious mass effect field at the figure. The one eyed Klausian Specter… the man the merc bands and the underworld called old one eye… how in the name of the Goddess had he done this to her?

The figure dodged nimbly aside, flipping himself backwards to avoid the mass effect field that had enough force to throw a Krogan through the wall, and stood upright on one of the undamaged containers. With a fluid motion the sword was sheathed at his back, and from his hip he drew two weapons, a heavy pistol with a long silencer, and what looked to be an archaic shotgun, but one with most of its stock and barrels missing. The figure aimed the pistol with his good eye, taking out two more of her mercs. A Turian with a shotgun of his own ran towards him firing, but the Klausian didn't even turn to aim, he merely leveled the doubled barreled weapon in his other hand and fired, both shells taking the Turian in the chest.

Rajeh screamed an Asari battle cry, firing her assault fire full auto at the Klausian. But he stepped backwards, ducking behind the crate he had been standing on as bullets filled the air he had once stood in. Shelia fired as well, her rage causing her biotics to swell around her without her calling them. A Batarian, trying his best limp away, took a shotgun blast to the side of the head, pitching forward as the impact tore him apart. They were the only two left now, whether the others had been killed in the explosion or just plain ran it was hard to say. Her battle cry joined Rajeh's as the two Asari continued to fire, peppering the crumbling container with gunfire. Another grenade flew toward them, and it went off in mid air, showering the two mercs with shrapnel. Shelia covered her face with her forearm, continuing to fire blindly at the crate, not realizing the grenade was a distraction. She turned just as she saw the figure steal up on Rajeh from the side, put the barrel of the pistol against her temple, and pull the trigger.

The dead Asari crumpled, purple blood flowing from the head wound. Shelia let loose a scream of rage and sadness, throwing everything she had into another mass effect blast. This time the field was too big and the Klausian too close, and Shelia laughed as the blue mass struck its target. The Klausian crouched, taking the powerful mass effect field squarely on the shoulder, the resulting impact pushed the Klausian back a total of six inches before it dissipated. Shelia's laugh of victory turned into a choked cry of disbelief. She snapped the pistol up and fired, but the Klausian kept coming, and before she could fire again, had slid the tip of his blade through her chest. Shelia looked down at the blade, disbelieving. It had happened to fast. The end had come so swiftly she couldn't comprehend it. Her head rose to face her killer. All she could see of him through the growing darkness at the edges of her vision was a single eye through the smoke, burning with an intensity the dwarfed the fires in the room. Shelia gave one last gasp, shuddered, and died on the sword of the Klausian. The blade withdrew, and the Klausian stood over his fallen enemy.

At last the warehouses automated fire suppression was able to corral the flames, and the fire, like so many others in the last minute or so, perished.

The Klausian stood there a moment, his breathing neutral, the sword in one hand the suppressed pistol still in the other, the shotgun having returned to the makeshift holster on his hip.

From the corner of the room, the human accountant tried to make a break for it. It was the last mistake of his life. He hadn't gotten two steps when a bullet from the suppressed pistol took him just below the left ear, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

The Klausian walked over at a casual pace, sheathing his sword and returning the pistol to the holster at the small of his back. When he reached the man he turned him over with the toe of his boot, then crouched to retrieve the credit chit from the man's jacket pocket, as well as the man's datapad. The Klausian would have begun reading the files then and there, but his sharp ears had already began to hear sirens in the distance. Specter or no, facing even limited questioning and detainment by C-Sec was unappealing. With one last scan of the warehouse to ensure nothing important had been missed, the Klausian departed, melding into the shadows of Zakera Ward once again.

* * *

The Cerberus agent, tired and out of breath, leaned heavily against the wall of the now quiet warehouse. It had taken all her speed and skill just to follow him this far, and he still had managed to take out the entire facility before she had even arrived. Still breathing heavily, she peeked through a side window, surveying the gore inside. Brutal, but efficient. Maybe he was as good as the Illusive man seemed to think. Of course she was fairly certain he hadn't seen her yet, but he was nevertheless almost impossible to tail. She stood there for a moment longer, trying to catch her breath, then departed at a sprint. She couldn't let him get away now, finding him had cost her a great deal of time, effort, and resources, she couldn't give up now.

She was still moving at a sprint, desperately searching for some sign of his movements, when a soft sound down a side alleyway caught her attention. Changing directions quickly, she moved swiftly down the alley, ultimately slowing and then stopping as it turned into a dead end. She swore softly as she stood staring at the stark wall. Had he pulled another of his acrobatic tricks? Somehow getting up and over the wall? Or had she just been hearing things. Swearing a second time, she turned, only to freeze where she stood. The long black barrel of a silenced pistol was now mere inches from her face. And behind that, one grim eye staring her down.

Still breathing a little heavy, she slowly raised her hands, dead set on not doing anything to provoke him. They stood there for a moment, and at last he spoke.

"Before I kill you, I would know your name."

Determined not to be intimidated, she held his gaze. "My name is Jill, and I'm here to recruit you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He didn't move, just continued to look down the barrel at her with that grim, passive look. After a moment it became clear he wasn't going to speak, so Jill tried to take what initiative she could, determined not to be intimidated by the admittedly harrowing gaze.

"I work for an organization that wants… no needs you to help us, all of the galaxy as a matter of fact…"

"Cerberus." It was not a question, but a statement of fact. "I have been directly responsible for exactly ninety three deaths in your organization, and each one of them deserved the end they received. You are not helping your case, miss." The neutral, almost detached voice sent a thrill down her spine as he continued to regard her coldly. "In general I've found their penchant for racism is overstated, but their penchant for operating outside the law is not."

Yeah, this was not going well. She had tried to do as the Illusive man had directed, but somehow she had still underestimated him, even with all her precautions.

"Cerberus was organized to do what had to be done. What no one else could do. You're a specter, isn't your mission very similar, to do what's necessary to protect the peoples of the universe, even if it means skirting the law?"

"Quite a sweeping statement. Not to mention a gross oversimplification. Perhaps I deem your death, and the death of your commander, in the best interests of the universe?"

Jill swallowed, still trying to hold his gaze. "You're a Klausian, and a man of justice, would you really shoot an unarmed woman?" She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them, as the gaze from the one eyed man went from chilly to impossibly cold.

"Lying to me has proven to be a very unhealthy proposition in the past, miss. Do it again and the consequences will be dire."

Jill was at a loss, her first impulse was to say she wasn't lying, but the Klausian didn't seem like the type to make empty threats. Before she could decide how to react he spoke again.

"One Kessler heavy pistol under the crook of your left arm, large and powerful, but bulky. You had your tailor extend the shoulder stitches on your jacket, allowing the weapon to sit without a bulge giving it away. One serrated combat knife, eight inch blade, in your right boot. Serrated edges make it harder to pull the knife in a hurry, personally I prefer a smooth edge. And finally a stiletto mark 3 slim pistol strapped to the inside of your right thigh. Small, quiet, deadly."

Maybe he had seen the pistol under her arm when she raised her hands, and maybe he'd seen the hilt of the knife protruding from her calf high boots, but she was wearing simple blue jeans, seeing the very thin, very discreet stiletto pistol beneath the thick denim seemed impossible. She had almost forgotten it was there herself. While wearing pants the damn thing could be hard to get to, but she had always found its presence comforting.

"Normally I'd relieve you of such items, but one must try and be a gentlemen at all times."

She couldn't tell if he was having fun with her or not. A small half smile seemed to be tugging at the corner of his mouth, but the stare remained ice cold. Klausian humor maybe? Despite all the files she read the race was as mysterious to her as it was to most of the galaxy at large.

"The only reason you're still alive miss is I can tell from the way you walk, talk, hold yourself, and conceal your weapon that you were at one time law enforcement. And yet now you are in Cerberus, an illegal pro human organization that you say is as dedicated to the preservation of life as I. I have one question for you miss: Why?"

It was a questions she should have expected, and yet it still gave her pause. She couldn't make something up, if she did she had a feeling he'd know.

"_You'll need to reveal something of yourself." _The Illusive man had said before she had departed on her mission. "_He will not trust you unless you do. He probably won't even then, but at least he will be more trusting of your motives." _With a deep sigh, Jill began to speak.

* * *

Jill tried to pull herself out of the muck, the rain pelting her where she had fallen, mud and water penetrating her uniform and body armor. She had to live. She was the only one who knew, the only one who could make them pay. Behind her, the moans of the creatures were becoming louder, their shuffling feet drawing nearer.

"Get up." She told herself, trying to get her legs underneath her body. "GET UP!" She yelled aloud, pulling herself up by force of will. After a few hours of heavy rain the dirt road leading to the space port had become a mud hole, the standing water in the ditches by the road filled nearly to over flowing. The small cargo shuttle lay fifty yards in front of her, the rain sliding down its white sides. The bright white lights of the landing pad cutting through the darkness of the forest around her. Behind her, the orange glow of the fires even now ravaging the colony was still visible, and as she cast her eyes back towards the settlement, it framed the horrors that even now were shambling through the mud towards her. There were hundreds, nay thousands, of them, drawn by some primordial force to the last uninfected human on the face of this once peaceful planet.

At last Jill found her feet, staggering as she rose. Any second now, the plasma cannons would begin to fire, and every last living thing within a hundred miles of this place would be annihilated. The shambling abominations behind her, or the purifying energy weapons of the Turian fleets even now taking firing positions in higher orbit, it was a toss up over which would bring her nightmare to an end.

But the will to survive was strong in one Jill Valentine, as was the desire to exact revenge. She had always been a kind, straight forward person, that was why she had left the alliance special forces to join the special tactics and rescue service, better known as STARS. When she and her team had responded to the Albion IV colony's distress signal, they couldn't have imagined the horrors that awaited. Now they were all dead, her team, the colonists, all were dead, or worse yet, had been turned into shuffling monstrosities right out of an ancient earth monster film. The walking undead. Nearly a hundred thousand people, mostly human, had perished because of the evil experiments of the Exogeni corporation. This horrible biological weapon that turned sentient beings into mindless, soulless killers had been their creation, and she alone had the means by which to punish them, a small data disk with details of Exogeni's heinous experiments was tucked inside her body armor.

Jill pushed herself to a jog, trying to wipe away the blood and grime around her eyes. The first of the undead monsters was only a few feet away now. Praying the weapon wouldn't jam due to the wet conditions, Jill pulled her side arm. The undead creature, a Salarian with half his face missing, reached for her. She gunned him down as she continued to jog, the ramp up to the shuttle only a few yards away. She was almost at a full sprint now, the wound in her leg burning like mad. At last she reached the ramps top, and the pristine white side door to the shuttle came open automatically as it sensed her approach. Jill stumbled inside, slapping the door close button behind her. She collapsed on the floor of the shuttle, unable to rise. She shouted at the pilot VI as best she could in her prone position.

"Launch…the goddamn…shuttle…" She gasped. Outside, the undead were slapping at the sides of the shuttle, desperate to get in. To get HER.

"Destination please." The VI voice intoned cheerfully.

"Orbit… just take us into…orbit." Jill was too tired even to yell at the idiotic interface.

"Acknowledged. Preceding to low standard orbit."

The whoosh of thrusters could be heard through the shuttle's thick paneling, along with the feeling of gentle movement. Jill clawed her way slowly to the pilot's seat, her muddy blood stained clothes leaving marks over the white fabric of the seat. Above her a thousand points of white and orange light erupted, streaking down towards the colony below. The Turians had waited long enough, their fleet of battleships opened fire on the small patch of the green planet, eradicating everything within a hundred miles of the colony.

On the edge of passing out, Jill reached within her body armor, pawing at the data disc inside. Her hand met nothing. The horrid realization hit her. She turned quickly in the seat, hoping beyond hope the disk had fallen out when she had stumbled inside the shuttle. Her eyes met nothing but streaks of grime leading to the seat. When she had fallen in the road then? It couldn't be! Her only hard evidence against Exogeni, gone.

The Turians would investigate, right? They would come up with something, they had to. A Turian cruiser was already moving to intercept the small shuttle, the long nose moving lazily through the void of space. At last Jill passed out, exhaustion overcoming all else as the cruiser moved to retrieve her shuttle.

* * *

She was almost finished with her story when she realized the Klausian was no longer pointing the gun at her. It had disappeared behind his back, and he was merely looking at her, his intense gaze was still hard, but Jill still counted this as progress.

"But they didn't find anything, did they?" He whispered, almost to himself.

"No." Jill looked at the ground. "I went to the alliance, hell I even tried to go to the council, without hard evidence they didn't want to do a damn thing. They said it was my word against theirs, and Exogeni is a multi billion credit corporation with the lawyers and advocates that that kind of power retains. All those people, my team, all of them, I thought they wouldn't get justice, so…"

"Cerberus recruited you." Again, it was more a statement than question. His fingers rubbed his chin as he seemed to ponder her story.

"Actually, I sought them out. Humans had died. Thousands of them. I needed… well I thought what I wanted was…"

"Revenge." The one eye glinted. "I've killed enough to know that expression, Jill Valentine. Justice wouldn't have been enough even if you'd gotten it."

Again her initial reaction was to deny it, but after a moment, she nodded. "I wish I could describe what went on there, but it seemed no 'civilized' punishment would be enough. Neither STARS nor the alliance military would have me back after the hearings. Exogeni attacked me, smeared my good name and service record. Made sure I would never hold a weapon for a legitimate organization again. In essence, they left me no choice but to go to Cerberus."

"And did you get your revenge?" His voice was low, and had an almost far away quality to it.

She bristled, her patience nearing its end. "I'm not sure how that's your business…"

"Right now, you are my business, Jill Valentine. By following me and having the audacity to ask for my help, you have made yourself my business. Now answer the question."

Again, Jill couldn't help but look at the ground, the alley walls, anything but that piercing gaze. "More or less." She said at last, still not looking up. "A transport carrying the lead scientists on the project was intercepted by a Cerberus ship commanded by me. I had killed many times in STARS and in the alliance, but on that day I felt like a murderer for the first time." Still holding her composure she at last met his gaze. When she looked up at him she was shocked to see the gun back in his hand.

"Turn around." He ordered coldly.

Momentarily at a loss, her eyes flashed angrily. "I guess I'm not the only one comfortable with murder."

"Turn." He pulled the pistol's hammer back to emphasize his order.

Raising her hands again she did as she was told, her mind racing. Would he really kill her? Was this how it was going to end?

His voice came from behind her, so quiet it was barley audible over the night time noises of Zakera Ward. "Congratulations, Miss Valentine, you've convinced me not to kill you."

She whirled around, anger getting the best of her once again, but the alley behind her was empty.

* * *

At six am the almost legendary bar and strip club known as Chora's Den did not resemble the exciting and boisterous hot spot it had been a mere six to eight hours before. The Citadel's most seedy and infamous den of iniquity was mostly empty now, just a few booths occupied, mostly by the unconscious. Despite the limited crowd, two attractive dancers, an Asari and an Expellian, were working the twin poles on the circular stage above the bar with considerable enthusiasm, competing with one another for the attention of the only bar patron currently capable of standing upright.

The Klausian looked up at them with subdued interest, as most of his attention was focused on the black Krogan liquor in his glass. Ryncol was fatal to most species if ingested, but not unlike the Krogan who had invented it, the Klausians found its mixture of mind numbing pain and high alcohol content strangely pleasing.

The Klausian finished the remaining ryncol with a long swig. Pouring himself another glass from the bottle on the bar, his gaze lifted upwards toward the two performers. The Expellian caught his eye and he gave her a half smile. The Expellian purred audibly, her long cat like tail curling slowly around the pole. The Asari gave her a glare, then wrapping her leg around the opposite pole, threw herself into a spin that ended with her resting on her knees. The Klausian's smile broadened a little, but the two competitive dancers were forgotten as the door to Chora's Den opened slowly, admitting another early morning guest.

The Klausian took a long swig, then turned to face the new entrant. "Tenacity is a virtue, Miss Valentine, but in this case its wasted." A datapad clattered onto the bar next to the bottle of ryncol, wobbling a bit before coming to rest.

"Read it." Jill was still pretty damn angry, she felt like she had revealed a lot of herself, and for what? But all that meant was she was not going to give up, if anything that had made her more driven. When she had discovered the empty alley behind her she had gone to the one place all her sources said was his favorite. "It's been a long time since I told anyone that story, about what happened to me on Albion. I did so because I wanted you to know where I'm coming from, Specter. And why when there's something this big at stake, I can not and will not give up." She was done playing nice. She fixed the Klausian with what she hoped was an intimidating stare.

The Klausian studied her for a moment, then to her surprise and dismay, actually laughed. "Alright, Miss Valentine, let's see what you have to show." He spent the next hour studying the files on the datapad, never stopping to drink, or asking her any questions, merely absorbing the information contained within.

When he finished, Jill was explaining to an Asari dancer (the third to approach her in this time frame) that she did not in fact want a dance, and that no, not all human women were as uptight as she appeared to be.

"You're an interesting study, Miss Valentine." The Klausian spoke as he lowered the datapad. He stared straight ahead for a moment, then, forgoing his glass, picked up the Ryncol bottle and drank from it directly. "Walk with me." Scooping up the discarded datapad, she followed him outside.

* * *

Outside, the day cycle of the Citadel had begun, and an increasing number of shuttle cars could be seen crisscrossing the sky, their occupants beginning their work days. The Klausian looked out on the speeding traffic, his hands hanging over the railing that guarded the sidewalk outside of Chora's Den.

After a time he spoke. "If we do this, we're doing it my way. I select the team, I select the crew. I have the final say. This isn't Cerberus's operation, its mine."

Jill stood beside him, following his gaze. "We wouldn't have it any other way, Specter."

The Klausian nodded as if her response was expected. "Good. Now we're gonna need a team. And their gonna have to be the best…"

He continued outlining ideas to her as the two figures departed the Ward.

* * *

Fael'Elos vas Ornion sat by the wards exit, the increasing pedestrian traffic oblivious to the Quarian's presence. She had started a fight in the shelter and been thrown out, and in the end simply hadn't gotten any sleep, floating from one boulevard to the next. She wanted to go home so badly it hurt, but she simply couldn't return to the fleet with nothing, she had to have at least that much pride.

She was still in deep thought when two figures passed by nearer than most, the first was a tall human woman, thin and very beautiful, with short brown hair, and the other was.. Oh Keelah! It was HIM! Fear froze her for a second, she hadn't gotten a very good look at the shadow that had saved her the previous night, but she had seen enough to know the man striding past in the long black overcoat was he. She was rendered speechless, her eyes locked on his face. She nearly fainted when he crouched near her for a moment, and with an outstretched hand, offered her what looked like a credit chit. Disbelieving, Fael took it, her hands trembling. The man straightened, then continued walking at a brisk pace. Looking down at the chit Fael began shaking for another reason. The graphic across the front of the chit read almost ten million credits.

Fael stared at the chit for a long time, unable to comprehend the turn of events. Eventually she made her way to the dock, to purchase a ride back to the flotilla. With this money the admiralty board could buy fuel, armaments, maybe even a new ship, and Fael herself would be welcomed back as a hero. She departed the Citadel for good that day, but would not soon forget the shadowy figure that had twice changed her life.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"…and so the day I turned eighteen I joined the alliance… brave new frontier and all that. Folks didn't like it, but I didn't care. Alliance must have seen something they liked because they had me in and out of officer school in under two years, was leading ground teams in three. Killed my share of slavers and mercs out near the edge of alliance space, got sick of it, decided I'd do something noble. Didn't turn out so well."

The Klausian nodded, but said nothing, his hand absently fingering the hilt of his sword, which he had removed from across his back and laid across his lap. The long cab ride to the presidium was nearing the halfway point. Outside the wards rushed by in a blur, traffic now at full bore.

"So what about you?" She asked, turning to him and cocking an eyebrow. "You've let me go on about myself but we know almost nothing about you."

"By we you mean Cerberus? Or you personally?" The Klausian sighed, his hand leaving the hilt. "Violent men try to keep their pasts from swallowing them up, Miss Valentine. That is if they intend to remain sane."

"I've placed myself under your command, as will no small number of other operatives. How do we know you're not like Saren? He was certainly mysterious and aloof, and of course we know how that ended…"

The Klausian snorted. "I would hardly call Saren mysterious. He was the most public of all the Specters if anything. Most of the galaxy at large knew his name even before he went rogue, and pretty much everyone in the verge knew him on sight. Not exactly a low profile. As for me, no one not living on Klaus III or IV knows my birth name, and they have enough respect for my accomplishments to be satisfied addressing me as Executor or Specter. And if not for my rather distinguishing physical characteristic, I'm fairly confident I wouldn't be known at all."

"How did you lose that eye anyway?" She regretted the question almost immediately, the Klausian tensed as if her words were some sort of attack. After a moment he relaxed again.

"You assume a level of familiarity that you have not earned, Miss Valentine." The rest of the trip was spent in awkward silence.

* * *

Jill stood alone in the large docking bay, to her right was the ship entrance, a vast void stretched onward beyond it, small specks of light rushed to and fro in the distance, signifying ships making their way across the expanse. She inspected her watch, the ship was due any minute, and the Klausian and his crew had yet to arrive.

Earlier in the day the Klausian and the Illusive man had had a brief, albeit heated, exchange. Old one eye had wanted to acquire a Klausian ship and crew for the mission, the Illusive man, a Cerberus ship and crew members. Eventually they had settled on a compromise, something Jill considered no small feat considering the two dominant personalities clashing.

Old one eye had set off to speak to the Klausian ambassador aboard the Citadel, his goal to sift through Klausian military records, trying to assemble the best crew from those readily available. Meanwhile she had come to the dock to meet their ship. Before the Normandy II had been constructed on board one of the many Cerberus dry docks, a prototype had been constructed. Originally meant for the omega 4 relay mission, this ship was an exact duplicate of the first Normandy, and as such had been discarded when it had become known the fate of the first vessel, as how could they rely on a ship that had already failed once? Once it was known that Cerberus was recruiting the Klausian, Cerberus engineers had scrambled to incorporate as many upgrades into the prototype as possible, doing everything they could to make it space worthy in a limited amount of time.

As Jill understood it, the prototype could fly, and was at least structurally sound, but it would still rely on them to make finishing modifications, including a proper shake down. It would be a tall order for the crew, especially since old one eye didn't seem to think he could round up more than a dozen crew members with the Klausians that were on the Citadel, and the staff size required for a frigate such as the prototype was more in the neighborhood of thirty.

Jill looked at her watch again, sighing in frustration. The ship would be here any moment, where was he?

* * *

"You realize that entire system is still under quarantine? Any ship that enters is automatically seen as infected, and as such most patrols are more likely to blow a ship into dust. And if even one egg or one infected being makes it back to civilized space it could cause an outbreak that could threaten millions if not billions of lives." The Turian councilor stopped to take a breath, his mandibles twitching as if the audacity of the Klausian's request were enough to make them move independently of his will.

"The Salarian councilor took this opportunity to speak up. "And you have yet to give us any insight into your mission, Specter. To make such a request as allow you to enter a sector of space quarantined for nearly a decade most certainly arouses our curiosity."

The Klausian had been silent up until this point, his fingers rubbing his chin absently. "Do not mistake me, councilors. The purpose of my visit today is to seek neither your approval nor your understanding. Merely to inform you of my intent. I am entering the dark void cluster with or without your blessing."

The councilors conferred for a moment, the holographic projector in the Klausian ambassador's office, shimmering for a moment as the four figures whispered.

At last their conference ended, and it was councilor Anderson that spoke. "Your missions are of course your business Specter, and your long tenure most certainly guarantees you the authority to do as you will. We simply wish you would give the council more of a window into your missions and objectives. Though we trust you implicitly the universe can ill afford another Saren."

"I understand the council's concern." Replied the Klausian, meeting the holographic gaze of the human council member. "That is why I arranged this meeting in the first place, to allay any fears the council might have prior to my departure." He clasped his hand behind his back, the long sword shifting as he did so. "I must do what I must do, councilors. This mission is imperative to the survival of our civilization, but I can give you no further details at this juncture."

"Very well then, Executer." It was the Asari council member that spoke now, her habit of speaking his Klausian title indicative of the respect she held for the position. "You have the council's backing in this matter. This means however that it falls on you to ensure that no one who accompanies you returns infected, this of course may mean purging your entire crew, including yourself."

"If required, I will do so, you have my assurance, councilor." The gray eye flashed grimly.

"Then we wish you the best of luck, Specter." Councilor Anderson was the last to speak.

The Salarian ambassador nodded, and the Turian tilted his head in respect as the meeting ended.

The open room was quiet for a moment, then the Klausian turned, facing the room's only other occupant.

"You sure do play your cards close to the vest." The Klausian ambassador smiled, his tone one of good humor. "Cant believe they relented. The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?"

"Indeed, most of it stems from the knowledge that I would continue to do what I needed to regardless of their approval. They could strip me of my position tomorrow and it would not influence my mission in the slightest."

"You've always done things your own way, it makes them nervous."

"As well it should. They realize that even they are not above retribution should they fall from the path of righteousness."

The ambassador sighed, crossing his arms. "You really need to lighten up. Maybe running with a crew and team again after all this time will help."

"Advice? From a former student?" The Klausian gave a half smile. "Sorry Cliff, but I'm far past lightening up, this mission is deadly serious."

"So why all the secrets? I've always known better than to pry, I generally think its better not knowing, but wouldn't it be better to tell someone who's not going with you what's going on?"

"Yes, actually. Here." The Klausian produced an osd from inside his jacket, handing it to the ambassador. "This disk details everything I know so far. Should I fail, please deliver this disk to Executor Koas, she'll know what to do."

The ambassador looked at the disk for a moment. He looked back at his former mentor, pretty sure of what he was going to say next.

"And under no circumstances are you to view its content. So orders the Executor."

"And so I shall obey." Cliff gave the ceremonial response, snapping to attention even though his military days were long over. The ambassador was hardly a worrier, but no small amount of dread was creeping up on him.

After a moment, Cliff spoke. "You think this human science experiment is worth it? Ten years is a long time to be in deep sleep."

"Absolutely. His mental conditioning and gene therapy will make him invaluable. I only hope that he has survived amongst those creatures for the last decade. I have faced them before, and they are as cunning and deadly as they are resilient. The councilor saying that billions of lives could end if we inadvertently bring one back with us is not an understatement."

Cliff glanced over at the monitor on the wall, on its display was a man wearing a c-sec uniform, a strand of long black hair coming down the side of his face. He sighed heavily. "You do this job, you try and do right by the peoples of the universe, you think you are making a difference… and then you hear of something like this. Genetic restructuring, borg implants, brain washing… humans have incredible capacity for cruelty toward their own kind, it sickens me."

The one gray eye fixed him with a hard look, one that Cliff's father and father's father had trained under. "Do not waiver, ambassador. Without resolve…"

"…we are as nothing." Cliff finished the old Klausian axiom quietly.

"I'm off, the crew should be waiting for me. I have no doubt miss Valentine is becoming anxious."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The as of yet unnamed Cerberus ship slipped silently through space, its cutting edge stealth systems enough to impress even the hardened Klausian crew. Jill Valentine stood at a terminal just behind the pilot seat, watching wistfully as the stars streaked by.

She had discovered over the last week or so of space travel that Klausians, not unlike humans, were a race of contrast. Given that her experience with the species was so limited, she had come to believe that old one eye was the prototypical Klausian, quiet, methodical, intense. But her interactions with the crew that had come to help them on their mission had gradually changed that view. They were quiet and a little aloof, yes, but almost all were cordial, and a few were even friendly. The navigator, for instance, a 'young' Klausian at forty Earth years of age, was a tall thin woman named Marietta. She had been nothing but very friendly towards Jill, a fact that had surprised her at first, and was even teaching her some of the intricacies of Klausian culture.

They were nearing the mass relay that would bring them into the Omega Nebula, and the first real leg of their journey would begin. The Klausian had some sort of specialty weapons supplier on Omega, and that was their first stop. The enormous floating asteroid city was home to a good deal of the Terminus systems criminal and mercenary organizations, making it the perfect place to acquire rare and powerful (and usually illegal) weapons. The ship had come armed with some of the best mass produced weapons available, but the Klausian had quickly deemed them inadequate for this first mission.

Jill sighed, remembering the rather cold conversation yesterday in which she had the temerity to ask what their first move was. The Klausian had outlined a general plan, but no specifics. She was particularly interested in this system they were heading to, the dark void cluster. Cerberus intel on the system was limited, and the only survey team they had snuck past the quarantine blockade had not returned. That something very deadly lurked in that system was obvious, the Klausian was having all armor outlined with acid proof coating, and the three Klausian commandos that would make up their initial ground team were undergoing drills in the hold. Her questions had been met with that cold stare, and she had eventually relented. Her military days were not so long gone that she had forgotten how to let certain topics drop. Sighing again, she stared out into the void, her mind wandering.

"Good morning, Miss Valentine."

Jill couldn't help but start at the voice. She hated when he did this. Old one eye had the skill to sneak up on any one of the Klausian members of the crew if he wanted, and if he could fool even their highly developed ears, stealing up on a day dreaming human was no doubt child's play.

She turned to look at him, on his face a small half smile was tugging at his lips, an expression she had come to interpret as mild amusement.

She glared. "You do enjoy doing that, don't you?"

The half smile became a little more pronounced. "My dear Miss Valentine, whatever could you mean? I merely had some business with you this fine morning. The fact that you were so absorbed with staring out the window that a Volus with a leaky suit could have snuck up on you is no concern of mine…"

The half smile disappeared. "The Citadel is now a week behind us, and we are about to enter the Terminus systems. The time for secrecy is ended. Time to inform the crew of our mission."

Jill nodded. "Do you think they'll believe it? I mean, I'm still surprised you believed it so easily…"

The Klausian shrugged as if the question was irrelevant. "Living for centuries you become more adept at separating fact and fiction. I know your Illusive man has been less forthcoming than I would like, but has been more forthcoming than I might have been in a similar situation. This crew will believe what I tell them, the words of an Executer are law in our culture, as I'm sure our chatty young navigator has no doubt told you."

Jill nodded, long past being surprised by what the Klausian knew went on around him.

Turning to the pilot, a young Klausian woman named Lucrezia Noin who up until a week ago had been one of the best fighter pilots in the Citadel defense force, old one eye keyed the ship wide intercom.

A tone sounded, and without introduction or formality, the Executer's grave voice came over the intercom. "I'll start by telling you something you already know." Old one eye pause, as if considering his words. "Nearly two and a half years ago our Citadel was attacked by the Geth. Many lives ended that day. Most of you were there, as was I, fighting in the wards, doing everything we could to preserve the lives of those that called the Citadel home. If not for the brave actions of one very skilled human, many more would have died." He let this sink in for a moment, the crew retaining their trademark Klausian passivity. "Now I'll tell you something you may have heard as supposition and dark rumor. Something you have no doubt heard shouted down by those too blind and too frightened to face the truth of the matter. It was not the Geth that ordered the attack on the Citadel."

Jill looked amongst the faces of the Klausians currently on the bridge, looking for some sign of surprise. She saw only grim realization.

"It was ordered by a race of beings whose sinister intent we cannot even begin to comprehend. A race known as the Reapers. Many millennia ago, when our proud race was certain nothing lay beyond the two inhabited worlds of our system, a race called the Protheans were destroyed systematically by these sentient machines, these Reapers."

Something about the last statement confused Jill. The Protheans had died out nearly fifty thousand years ago. A time when most of the current species in the galaxy, even the long lived ones such as the Asari and Krogan, were living in caves. If they had even evolved at all yet. Just what level of intelligence did the Klausian race possess if it was able to map its own system nearly fifty thousand years ago?

These questions were dispelled as the Klausian continued.

"Our benefactors, the organization known as Cerberus, may indeed be as malevolent as we have been led to believe, but unlike so many others they have the courage to face the grim reality that the Reapers will return if they can, and will repeat their genocide upon the trillions that exist here. Those of us sworn to uphold the ideals of our fathers can not sit by as this happens. But it is not the Reapers that are the goal of this mission, but their tools."

"When the Reapers last visited their horrible wrath on organics, they broke the minds of the Protheans they did not destroy, making them mindless slaves to their will. These pitiful creatures remained, even after their twisted masters returned to dark space. They continued to do their master's bidding, even after all contact had been removed. How this was possible was a mystery… until a few months ago."

He regarded Jill now, fixing her with his single grey eye. "Our good friend Jill Valentine has provided me with the records of a Cerberus ship that discovered a rather odd item floating in the nothingness of space. The scientists aboard this Cerberus research vessel referred to this item as an Anima Relic."

"This massive floating tablet, drifting quietly in deep space for untold millennia, was the key to the Reapers continued mind control over the helpless denizens of the Prothean empire. It amplified the already immense psychic powers of the Reapers a million fold, allowing their sinister consciousness to blanket the known galaxy, and these devices continued to amplify it, even after their creators disappeared into the void. These relics are the subject of our mission. Even now a powerful human practitioner of biotics and psychokinesis, perhaps _the_ most powerful practitioner of biotics and psychokinesis in the galaxy, is seeking these relics to amplify his own evil power. This man, known to Cerberus and a few select others only as code name Mantis, seeks direct telepathic control over as many organics as the relics will allow. In short, he intends to make himself a god."

"He acquired the first relic not long after it was discovered, brutally breaking into, then destroying the minds of the scientists. It is not known whether or not he has unlocked the secrets of this one relic, but it is known that there are others, although how many is unknown, and that Mantis is seeking them."

He gave a long pause, letting his stalwart crew absorb the information. "This is a lot take in, I know. But we are Klausians. We will not waiver, we will not fold. _And we will not fail!" _The last was spoken with driving intensity, and even Jill felt moved by the words. "So orders the Executer." This last sentence was spoken low, barley audible even through the intercom's sound amplifiers.

"AND SO WE OBEY." The Klausian crew cried out in a single, resolute voice.

* * *

As the harsh red light of uptown Omega beat down on her, Jill Valentine regarded one of the ugliest Turians she had ever laid eyes on. She had always considered them a handsome race, but this Turian's face was a mish mash of what could only be many crisscrossing wounds caused by everything from bullets to explosives. He also had a hunched, snickering way about him that made Jill a little uncomfortable. Despite of all this, Jill had to appreciate craftsmanship when she saw it. And right now she was seeing it in the form of the largest handgun she had ever seen.

The Klausian lifted the behemoth with little apparent effort, its bright nickel plating glinting in the dim light of what was the most famous gun shop in the traverse, possibly the galaxy. The weapon looked like a massive revolver, a testament to the human weapon the Klausian had used as a jumping off point. The revolver hadn't been widely used by anyone other than collectors in a hundred years, as thermal clips had replaced conventional ammo, but the Klausian had specifically designed this weapon for the mission ahead.

"I really must admit, when I received your message I was quite excited, Specter." The Turian sniggered, his dark eyes darting from gun to patron.

"…every time I hear from you I know something rare and exotic is in my future." His face tightened in what Jill was pretty sure was a smile, but the mangled face made it hard to tell. "The double barreled Krogan shotgun is still one of my proudest achievements… I trust it still serves you well, Specter?"

"It does." The Klausian's one good eye did not leave the massive pistol in his hand, the immense butt of the revolver seemed to contour to the Klausian's hand.

"He may be a fidgety cuss, but he has a right to be proud of that weapon." Jill thought, her eyes going to the Turian's face.

"It's a fifty caliber, just as you specified, modified human Magnum design. The cylinder was made by a Krogan weapon master, the sight and barrel from Earth, and the butt…"

"Klaus IV." The Klausian interrupted, twirling the immense revolver expertly in his hand. "And the Turian expanding shells?"

"Ten thousand are ready to be put aboard your ship, Specter. I might remind you again that only shells made especially for that weapon will suffice, as it does not use a thermal clip but actual bull…"

"I know. I designed it."

Over the last week Jill had come to notice some of the Klausian's quirks. This constant interrupting of the Omega weapon seller was a clear indication of his impatience, an indicator clear to her, but not clear to the Turian, who continued to ramble on.

"The kick back is even more vicious than I think even you anticipated Specter. The force is great enough to break the arm of most species, and the accuracy is sadly lacking…"

Without bothering to reply the Klausian turned to the shops extended shooting gallery. Steadying the immense revolver in one hand he aimed down his one good eye.

Even with all her training, Jill couldn't help but flinch at the roar that filled the confined shop. Still she was much better off than the shop keep, who fell to his knees, his hands over his ears, a small whimper escaping his lips. It was a single blast, sharp and pronounced, and it ringed with impressive force.

Across from them a row of paper targets, shaped like everything from Krogan to Featherfolk, were stapled in place. The one in the center, a human shaped target that was sunken back from the rest stood, its distance nearly fifty meters by Jill's quick estimate. While the target had been unblemished a moment ago, it now had a hole the size of Jill's fist squarely in the center of what was outlined as it's head.

"Yes. I believe this will suffice." A small half smile was again tugging at the corner of the Klausian's mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Turian weapon seller exhaled heavily after the two patrons left, the sound echoing in the now vacant shop. The Klausian got his creative mind working it was true, but he was a frightening man to deal with, what with his cold glare and considerable skills. He paid handsomely of course, and obviously appreciated his craftsmanship, but the Turian still was just as happy to see him on his way once their business was complete. The seller set about cleaning the shop, it was well past closing time anyway, and the usual bustle of an Omega evening was already dying down outside. He had been at it for about an hour when it happened.

It started as a strange buzzing in his skull, as if a hive of bees had somehow been loosed within it, zooming to and fro. The Turian dropped the assault rifle he had been carrying with a clatter, and lifted his hands to his head. It was about this time the music began. Whether it was real or just echoing in his mind like the buzzing he couldn't tell. It was slow, moving note to note in a soft yet relentless fashion, driving him to the brink of madness and back again with each change of the tone.

The weapon seller slid to the floor behind the counter, every cell in his body felt like it was on fire with pain, and he moaned weakly where he lay, too frightened to even ask what was happening to him.

The door swung open, and the music fell to a whisper. The Turian clawed his way up, trying with all his might to face those that had entered. He felt weak, drained of energy both in body and mind, and still the music whispered to him, telling him things, dark things, evil things.

The first two through were blue suns mercs, their blue and white helmets hiding their faces. They flanked the door on the right and left. The third entered, wearing black armor and the insignia of a blue suns captain, he was a species the weapon seller didn't recognize at first. He had stark gray skin and red goggles covering both eyes.

"A Helghast!" He whispered. The Turian looked down to see he was still shaking, and at some point had soiled himself.

The Helghan Captain gave a small smirk as he stepped aside to allow a fourth into the room.

The music rose again to a crescendo, waves of sound tearing through the very fabric of his being. He wanted to scream, but all he could do was whimper.

The newcomer floated in. And floated was the right word, for he was a good six inches off the ground, a long black duster, very similar to the Klausian's, lightly touched the floor. What the Turian saw in front of him defied classification. He thought what it was was human, but he couldn't be sure. What skin was visible had a gray and greenish hue to it, but the thing was mostly clad in black leather. Over its face was a massive mask the Turian could not identify. The weapon seller did not recognize it, for how could he know what an early twentieth century earth gasmask looked like?

Whatever it was it wasn't another Helghast, that he was sure of. It's build was too slight, almost emaciated. Scars crisscrossed what parts of its body were visible, and the breathing of this creature, the slow methodic in and out through the filters in the mask, thundered in his ears. And when it spoke, all the universe seemed to be swept away, leaving only this creature and the Turian, who's very existence seemed as fragile as an egg shell.

"THE ONE EYED MAN WAS HERE." The voice was filtered through the mask, but still it split his mind like a dagger, again he tried to scream, and again all that escaped was a whimper. "WHERE HAS HE GONE? WHAT WAS HIS ERRAND?" The creature stressed his S's, and it was an accent the seller had heard a few humans use in the past… Russ… Rusain? Russian? He couldn't think, the pain was too great.

In an instant all that he was was laid bare to this creature, every event of his life from birth to the present was examined. It seemed like an eternity passed, but outside of his own mind it was only a few minutes.

"WORTHLESS." The voice intoned, and the Turian felt himself being lifted. "TRASH." The creature raised his hand, and the Turian rose with it, far past being able to struggle, the Turian tried to close his eyes. The pain continued to roll over him, and he wished for death. That wish was granted. With a sickening crunch, the human telepath and biotics marvel known as Psycho Mantis crushed the body of the Turian weapon seller into a bloody ball, the blue haze of a mass effect field surrounding the now broken body.

The former commandant of the eighth Helghan legion, and current captain in the blue suns mercenary band, Mollock Sayre, looked on with grim fascination. He had seen it several times before, but he enjoyed the spectacle. Mantis wadded the Turian like a used tissue, the sound of the cracking carapace filling the small front area of the shop.

Mollock didn't know what Mantis had said, it had all been in the Turian's mind of course, but that he didn't get what he wanted was clear.

At a nod from Mollock, the two mercs began ransacking the shop, looking for anything that might lead them to what they were after. It was almost certainly a waste of time, if something was there Mantis would have seen it in the Turian's mind.

He turned to the short, emaciated human who had landed next to him and cracked his neck loudly. "What about this Klausian concerns you so much? If we simply capture the remaining relics before him, he will have no way of stopping us. Better just to continue on. If he crosses our path then we can deal with him. Or better yet, let me send some men down to the dock, I'm sure they'd be able to discover which ship is his…"

"I can almost see it." Mantis breathed. "Like shadows in the fog."

Mollock knew exactly what Mantis was talking about: the future. It made even the hardened Helghan warrior shudder. This creature beside him truly was on the doorstep of becoming a god.

"Another relic, maybe two, and it will be clear."

Mollock didn't know whether Mantis was speaking to him or to himself. When they had first met, Mantis hadn't spoken at all, merely made his will know through his powers. Mollock knew he was being used, maybe even influenced a little, and he was fine with that. He would use Mantis as well, to bring about the revenge he had sought all these years. Once he had that, Mantis could use the relics to tear a hole in the universe for all he cared.

"He's there… standing in my way." Mantis hissed. "I will not be interfered with. Not now while I'm so close…"

Mollock looked at him through the red lenses of his goggles, his own breathing ragged in this place. He had slowly gotten used to the radiationless, oxygen rich atmosphere so many other species preferred, allowing him, unlike most other Helghast, to breath without a helmet. But still at times he missed the caustic air of Helghan.

"So close… So close…" Mantis continued to hiss beside him. He was sounding more and more like a junkie all the time, but the power that he had obtained would no doubt have changed anyone who had tapped into it.

Mollock thought about repeating his suggestion, but decided to drop it. This pit stop had delayed them enough already. They had gotten the lead on the next relic from his contacts on Omega, it was time to move again. He snapped his fingers and the two well trained merc returned to his side.

"Return to the ship." He commanded. "We will depart to find the next relic shortly." This is why Mantis needed him, he could control minds of course, but not for long periods. He needed Mollock to command these men, and if it meant even a chance of gaining his revenge, Mollock was happy to do it. The four figures departed silently from the shop, leaving the horrid mess for someone else to find.

...

"The first target of our recruitment efforts is a human genetics experiment, a human being that was subjected to gene therapy in order to create the perfect soldier, a human weapon." The Klausian walked quickly through the quiet Omega night, the soft snap of boots on metal the only noise echoing through the narrow streets. Jill trundled behind, trying to keep up, and also trying to give full attention to old one eye as they walked. She had no idea where they were going, but it didn't matter. He was finally sharing information with her, and she was eager to receive it.

"His DNA was spliced with many other species by old friends of yours, the research scientists of the Exo-Geni corporation."

Jill ground her teeth at the mention of her most hated enemy, but remained silent.

"They succeeded, after a fashion…" The Klausian continued, slowing his brisk pace a little. "…never met the man, but the documents on his progress are astounding. Ten years ago he was put into a cryogenic sleep while around him, test subjects of a particularly vicious nature got loose and slaughtered the researchers in there under ground base in the Dark Void Cluster. I believe he is still there."

"But if these creatures are that ferocious, how can you be sure?" Jill interrupted, trying not to sound out of breath.

"I cannot be certain of course. But I know his genetic make up and cybernetic implants made it impossible for him to be a suitable carrier for the young of said creatures. That's how they reproduce by the way, impregnating humanoids by forcing embryos down their throats and the allowing the young to consume them from the inside out."

Jill swallowed, but said nothing.

"And he was experimented on with their DNA as well, so even if they were aware of his presence in the cryo tube its hard to say if he would have been identified as friend or foe."

"So you have a hunch?" Jill asked, arching an eyebrow.

"A… hunch?" The Klausian frowned. "I suppose, if you want to use that term you may. The Klausian word is kehl, and it refers to what is essentially the same thing. Although it's meaning is far more complicated and its usage far more nuanced and varied than yours."

The Klausian continued. "After that we will need a biotics expert. And not just any will do. I have a few possibilities in mind, I am confident by the time we've added our next member that I'll know the candidate I want…"

Jill could barely believe how open he was being. This was the first time he had discussed his plans with her farther than just a general outline, and she was happy for it. Still something was bothering her. The Klausian stopped walking so abruptly she nearly ran into him.

They stood there for a moment, and then Jill spoke. "Far be it for me to question all this information, but I have to say I'm surprised you're giving me this much, especially since you've been playing things so close to the vest up until now. So why the change of heart?"

He turned to face her, his face suddenly expressionless. "Because you are about to be tested, Ms. Valentine. And in a few minutes from now you'll either have proven yourself worthy of being part of this mission, or you'll be dead."

Suspicion filled Jill's expression, but before she could ask him what this was all about, she realized they were surrounded.

Three Vorcha, a Batarian, and a human emerged from the shadows around them, the human with a pistol, the Vorcha with assault rifles, and the Batarian with a shotgun.

"Well well." The human crooned, walking up to them with a limp. "Awful late for such a vision of beauty to be skulkin' about now ain't it?" He licked his lips, his eyes locked on Jill.

Old one eye yawned, then his eyes floated to the Omega overhangs above them, as if admiring the Spartan Omega architecture was the most engaging thing to do at this particular moment. Jill glanced at him quickly. The expression on his face was one you'd expect to see on a museum patron, an 'oh that's interesting' look.

"Your man there looks like a rough chap he does. Tell him if he don't want your pretty face blown open by Varik's scatter gun, he better just keep standing there."

Jill didn't have to say anything. The Klausian wouldn't lift a finger to help her at this point this was her 'test' after all. She was enraged, he had taken advantage of her attention to lead her straight into an ambush. How long had he known they were being followed? From the very beginning, naturally. She was angry, but deep inside she was eager. Eager to impress him, eager to show her skill, and for a moment she hated that part of herself.

The human approached with a drunken gait. His eyes going up and down her form.

"Concentrate Jill, dammit!" She thought fiercely. Her mind was racing now, all her training coming to bear. "Five targets. If only I'd seen them coming, I could have picked them off from cover with ease. I've got my shields but no body armor. One good strafe is all I can stand up to then I'm done for. They are heavily armed, but have no shields or armor themselves. Still I'm surrounded without body armor and just my side arm… not good." She snuck a quick glance at the Batarian behind her and saw the small detail she needed to get out of this mess.

"Oh I'm gonna take care of you baby, gonna make you feel so good..." The human was talking again, his approach told Jill everything else she needed to know. Thug, not merc. No training. No experience save waylaying the stupid and the lost. His pistol was held limply in his hand.

All at once, a coy smile played across Jill's face. "And just how are you going to take care of me… hot stuff?"

The man stopped and whistled. "God damn baby…" Then looked up as if to thank the heavens for his fortune. Pulling the pistol from its clutch under her arm, Jill shot him through the bottom of his upturned chin, the bullet blowing through his skull with an impressive spray.

Stunned silence. The echo of the gunshot died quickly in the alley. This surprise was now Jill's best friend. Quickly and quietly, the Klausian cleared her line of fire.

Two more shots echoed up the alleyway, and two Vorcha crumpled with holes in their heads. The Batarian swore as his shotgun jammed. Clawing at the rear catch, he franticly tried to slip the thermal clip back into the slot made for it.

The third Vorcha raked her shield with his assault rifle, and Jill felt it buckle. It threw off her aim as she fired again. The first bullet sailed wide, missing the Vorcha cleanly. Jill's shields failed, and another spray would have ended her life, but she regained her feet and fired again, a single bullet taking the Vorcha in the chest, pitching him backward. Behind her, the thermal clip finally slipped into the Batarian's shotgun, and now ready for action, the Batarian brought it to his shoulder. Whipping around as fast as she could, Jill went onto one knee, buying herself half a second as the Batarian adjusted his aim. In that half second she put two in his heart.

The sudden silence in the alley way was deafening. Jill stood slowly, the pistol gripped tightly in her hand. She whirled again, this time bringing the weapon to bear on the Klausian. He stood to the side, hands folded behind his back, regarding her with mild interest.

"You son of a bitch." She gasped, out of breath. "Trying to get me killed?"

"No." Old one eye responded simply. "Trying to see if at some point you would get yourself killed. Or worse yet, someone on my team killed. If you couldn't handle five common street rats, even in a scenario where you were at a disadvantage…" The Klausian shrugged, and Jill felt her rage building. "Better to leave you here to the thugs of Omega than let you endanger the mission."

Jill gritted her teeth. "Did you arrange this?" She demanded. "Did…"

"No." Old one eye cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I did have to search more than I thought I would have to though. Finding a group of well armed highwaymen in Omega is harder than one would think." He crossed his arms.

They stood there a moment, Jill still pointing her gun at the obviously unconcerned Specter.

Part of Jill felt exhilarated, even proud of her skill. Another part felt sick, she had never been used to kill like this before, the feeling was disconcerting to say the least.

"I do not give compliments lightly, Jill Valentine. But you did well. You even saw the Batarian's thermal clip wasn't properly inserted." He inhaled slowly. "You did forget one crucial bit of information, however."

"And what was th…" Jill was cut off by a sudden scratching sound behind her. The Vorcha she had shot in the chest had clawed his way to his feet, assault rifle still in hand. With her shields still down there was nothing standing between Jill Valentine and death. Nothing, but the Klausian Specter whose name she did not know.

To say his hand was a blur as he drew his gun just wouldn't do justice to the speed at which the Klausian moved. The motion was so fast it seemed to defy what Jill thought was possible. So incredible was his speed that even if Jill had genuinely wanted to shoot him, she doubted she could pull the trigger on her pistol quicker than he could draw and shoot her down. Before she even could fully compute what was happening, the immense revolver roared. The Klausian shot from the hip, but his aim was true. An immense bloody hole appeared between the Vorcha's eyes, the force of the blast throwing the thin creature off his feet.

"Vorcha regenerate." The Klausian said simply. Holstering the revolver, he began walking again. After Jill was able to shake off her amazement (no small feat) she followed him into the gloom of Omega.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was always the same, they wanted him to trust them sight unseen, to let them stand at his side unproven. And all was well until the blood letting began. Then they would shake and sob, the events swirling around them too much for them to bear. The sounds of battle, the moans of the dying, the smell of death and burning flesh. It overwhelmed their senses, turning them into dangerous fools. Dangerous fools that would end their lives and possibly those of their fellows in a panic. Oh they'd start calm and composed, some might even call them brave. But when the blood started flowing, and things started going wrong, they lost their nerve.

Old one eye never let these dangerous fools within a light year of his missions, if he could help it. In his youth he had been more trusting, and paid a price for it. That was the way of things, he went on as others died by the choices he made. And by the time he tested one Jill Valentine on a dark and lonely Omega night, the tally of those he had seen die through his errors had grown quite large indeed.

So was this human woman a dangerous fool like the rest? Oh she was dangerous. But not a fool. He could order her to her death, and she would have that strange light in her eyes that he had. That many hard men and women had. There would be no panic. No stupidity. That was enough for him.

She was talking at him, 'at' being the correct word for it, as her words barely registered. Maybe he had been on his own too long, as Cliff had said. He only ever needed to justify his actions to himself, the thought of being questioned at length about his methods by one who hadn't seen as much action in her life as he generally saw in a month seemed a waste of precious time.

But still she went on, becoming more upset that he was ignoring her. Was the logic of that test truly that difficult to grasp? Where was that human adaptability he had heard so much about?

A strange compulsion stirred within him, and he began to speak. Jill stopped short as she realized he was softly telling a story few now living had heard.

The Covenant were here, and they had taken the colonists. The midday sun on the planet Isato II beat down on the Klausian's uncovered head, the whispering jungle wrapped around him. It was a living thing, the jungle, and if you stopped and listened you could here it breathe. The plants rustled, the wildlife scurried, and the jungle _breathed. And now it shuddered at the passing of the interlopers, and these interlopers were known to him. They were an alliance of xenophobic fanatics know as the Covenant, their prime goal being religious purity among sentient races of the galaxy. _

_Their empire lay far beyond the borders of citadel space, but they were still watched closely, and when a small occupation force had landed on Isato II, a small jungle world home to a human colony within the terminus systems, it was the Klausian Specter who had gone to investigate, free of the constrictions placed on the regular forces of the Citadel._

_Perhaps he was too late. The Covenant had no mercy in them, he knew this as he had seen the results of their barbarism on other worlds. Mangled bodies, swift but messy executions, all left for him to find long after the perpetrators had departed. If the colonists weren't dead already, their deaths were certainly forthcoming._

_The Klausian made his way silently through the jungle, disturbing nothing as he rushed with incredible haste towards the colony from the sheltered river delta where he had landed his small ship. After a time he crested a ridge, and looked down at the small research colony below him. _

_Looking through the scope of his rifle with his lone good eye, his acute mind assessed the situation. _

"_One wraith, two platoons of infantry." The Klausian observed impassively. One tank and forty foot soldiers, difficult, but not impossible. More concerning was the Covenant frigate that was in low orbit over the world. It had not detected his approach, but the moment the ground forces reported an assault to said frigate, more ground forces would undoubtedly be inbound. _

_Scanning the small collection of modest buildings, the Klausian spied the colonists. A pair of windowed transport containers stood at the north end of the compound, opposite the side the Klausian was approaching from. They were both jammed to capacity with frightened, pleading humans. If he could deal with this relatively small detachment of troops, then free the colonists before Covenant reinforcements arrived, they could flee into the jungle, the thick foliage and wealth of life forms would defy even the Covenant's sensors. And even with the fifty some colonists in tow, eluding the would be invaders until their own reinforcements arrived would be child's play._

"_Forty infantry, but only a half dozen elites." The Klausian shouldered his sniper rifle, his hand going to absently rub his chin. "Obviously not planning on any true opposition. Kill the elites and disable or destroy the tank, and the grunts will scatter like the cowards they are."_

_So how to approach it then? He could snipe a dozen, maybe two, before they centered on his location. If it was just infantry, and he didn't have the colonists to worry about, he could have pick them all off. He'd lead them on a merry chase through the woods, his blade cutting down stragglers, his bullets shattering skulls from a thousand unseen vantage points. They'd never even lay eyes on him, all forty would simply fall like wheat to the scythe. And if the frigate sent reinforcements they'd fall prey as well. But that would take time. Days even, and right now the hapless colonist's lives could probably be measured in minutes, not days._

_It was at this time he felt the jungle breathing again, and knew there was another in the forest. It was not a jungle creature, but nor was it a Covenant soldier. A human then? The Klausian smelled the wind. Yes, a human. Probably outside the colony proper when the invaders had attacked. The intel he could provide could very well mean life or death for the captured colonists below._

_With cat like speed and balance, the Klausian vaulted the two hundred or so feet down the sheer ridge wall._

_By the time the Klausian reached where the human boy was hiding, he had already been spotted by a Covenant patrol. The human was running at break neck speed, an elite and seven grunts charged after him, crashing through foliage as they ran south, unwittingly moving to where the Klausian could intercept them._

_The elite ran well ahead of the grunts, his long legs allowing him to lope with far greater speed than his short, almost stubby allies. Raising his energy weapon to his shoulder, the elite was about to fire on the fleeing human when out of the thick foliage to his left a long thin blade snaked out at knee level. The force of the sword strike, coupled with the Elite's own quick pace, saw to it that both legs were severed cleanly just below the knee. With the speed of a striking falcon the Klausian broke cover, and then, turning his blade, drove it through the now prone form of the Elite. A sizable spray of purple blood gushed from the wound, staining the ground._

_The grunts skidded to a halt, their expressions nearly comical. The Klausian smiled grimly as he pulled the shotgun from its holster on his right hip, emptying both barrels into the cluster of enemies before him. Yet more blood sprayed as the grunts fell. The Klausian dove to the side as the remaining grunts opened fire, their energy weapons raking where he had been standing just a second before. He circled them with his inhuman speed, scaling a tree with a few quick leaps. Below him, the confused firing of the brainless and cowardly grunts continued, a clear indicator that they had no idea where the strange apparition with the long black coat had disappeared to._

_With a flick of his wrist the Klausian expelled two smoking shell casings from the sawed off Krogan shotgun, and just as quickly, loaded two fresh ones. Leaping down into the midst of his enemies, the Klausian wielded his shotgun in one hand and sword in the other, making quick work of the remaining five grunts._

_When it was all over the Klausian wiped his blade on the corpse of a grunt, sliding it silently back into its sheath._

"_You may come out, human." He said without looking, his fingers deftly sliding two new shells into his shotgun. "If I wanted your life I would have it. But I do not, and if you wish to save your fellows at the main camp, time is pressing."_

_There was a pause, then a quiet rustle as a youngling, perhaps only fourteen or so earth years old, clawed his way out of the bushes. "Good God." He gasped, surveying the carnage that now littered the makeshift jungle path. "Just who are you mister…" The boy's eyes locked on the three black rings encircling the Klausian's throat, and he blinked._

"_You.. Are you a Klausian?"_

"_No time for trivialities." Old one eye replied calmly. "If I am to save your friends then I must know more about the layout of your colony, most importantly, which building houses your energy cells?"_

_The boy still looked shaken, but the calm yet commanding tone of the Klausian seemed to at least bring some color to his face._

"_East side of the compound, near the shore of the river." He gasped, still trying to catch his breath from the chase. "Do you really plan to take on all of them?"_

_The Klausian waved the question away. "I have no time to explain myself to a civilian, let alone a child. I suggest moving away from here as quickly as you are able."_

"_No!" The young human shook his head vigorously. "I can help! I was helping guard the colony at night, I know how to use a gun, let me help!" _

_To this day the Klausian doesn't fully understand why he relented. His kehl had warned him, even the eye if his imagination, which the templari had taught him never to ignore, showed him the possible outcomes. _

_But still he relented. Standing that day in the jungle, had he seen some of what he once was in that young human? Mayhap. Did he regret not listening to his kehl that day? Indeed he did._

_The Klausian sighed, turning to the boy. "The only true danger is the wraith. With it prowling about a frontal assault would be risky to say the least. Nor can I release all fifty colonists fast enough if I were to circle around. The infantry would pin us down and the wraith would finish us. No, I must disable or destroy the wraith first, and since I lack any heavy weapons, ill have to improvise one with the colony's energy cells."_

"_My dad is.." The child swallowed. "Was, the head of security, I know the codes for the defense turrets. Give me a chance and I'll turn that beast into a smoking heap."_

_There was steel in the child's words. Of course there was fear in his eyes, but the Klausian chose to ignore it._

"_Tell me what you need."_

_One. Two. Three. Three rapid shots split the tranquil jungle dusk, and with these shots, three elites fell dead, leaving three to command. The following scramble of confusion was satisfying. _

_The Klausian rotated vantage points with a level of skill sharpened by centuries of battle, but by the time the third elite fell, his time had run out. While the grunts continued to rake the jungle around them with their energy weapons, the massive wraith had begun to turn, its mortar centering not on the jungle fringing the colony's borders where their unseen enemy was picking them apart, but at the closer of the two transports where the colonists were being held._

_There was something about battle and the way it was experienced by different races. For most it was a confused rush, a sensory overload of sights and sounds that wore mentally as well as physically. Others, like the Krogan and Klausians, saw it as graceful dance of destruction and death, high art in motion. And like other forms of art, it could be as brutal and savage as it could be beautiful. _

_Old one eye felt the battle turn against him, by focusing fire on him, he was in control of the grunts as if he himself issued them commands. As if he were the artist painting this picture. But the pilot of the wraith, perhaps a veteran of many battles himself, refused to be manipulated in this way, moving instead to thwart what he recognized as the Klausian's ultimate goal, the colonists._

_The boy had arrived at the first auto turret, his hands moving shakily across its control panel. The Klausian perceived him with the eye of his imagination, observing his progress as if he stood beside him._

_The turret came to life and roared, the first shell struck the wraith on its starboard, tearing through shield and armor, leaving a smoking hole in its side. But still it hovered, and as it regained its equilibrium, the small hatch below its cannon swung open, revealing the occupant. The elite coughed and swore, fighting the controls, and with a jerk the tank was brought to bear on the turret._

"_Too late." The Klausian thought with a grim smile. "The boy has you dead to rights my friend." As he continued to out maneuver the soldiers still pursuing him around the colony's perimeter, the Klausian waited for the second blast, the one that would blow the wraith apart. It never came. The Klausian skidded to a halt, allowing himself to be exposed for a split second as he cast his gaze toward the turret and the boy. _

_The boy and the elite piloting the wraith stared at each other, neither one moving._

"_No…not in the eyes, never look them in the eyes." The Klausian thought._

_But it was too late. Looking into the eyes of a living breathing creature, the boy's resolve failed. He had never killed anything in his life, and now his innocence, his naiveté, had doomed him and many others. The tank lurched and then fired, consuming the turret and the boy in purple plasma._

"_NO." The Klausian roared. The sound drowning out even the sound of battle. Taken aback, the grunts stopped._

_Breaking into a charge that would have frightened a Krogan, Old one eye launched himself at his enemies, tearing through their ranks with his sword in one hand, shotgun in the other. _

_Across the clearing, the wraith lurched again, trying to take aim on the containers._

_The grunts scattered, the vicious assault destroying their resolve as well. The one elite commander still amongst them cursed, drew his own weapon, an energy blade, and tried to bar the Klausians way. For his trouble he received a sword stroke that tore him in half at the waist. _

_Rage and blood lust consumed the Klausian, at his core however there was a cold sadness, for he knew as he charged at the wraith that he would be too late to undo his own terrible mistake. That cold sadness was the voice of his kehl._

_The wraith fired again, and a container holding nearly two dozen humans was vaporized. _

_Jill and Old one eye were on the Omega transport lift, the clunky elevator slowly bearing them downwards toward the dock. The Klausian had stopped speaking, and while his face was still impassive, the skin around his one good eye had tightened almost into a squint._

_Jill had been totally entranced by the story, but the Klausian had stopped talking abruptly, and after a moment it became clear he wasn't going to continue. "And?" She asked, eager to hear the conclusion. "Then what happened?"_

"_This is not some yarn meant to entertain, Jill Valentine. It is a lesson meant to instruct." The voice of old one eye was as even and emotionless as ever. "Trust is a valuable commodity on the battlefield, Miss Valentine, and as such it should be earned. To give it freely is to invite calamity. That was the point of your test today."_

"_I'm not some green student in need of a lesson dammit!" _

"_A fact I suspected before, but now know for sure." Was the reply, infuriating in its matter of fact tone._

_Jill's hand slapped the elevator controls, bringing it to a wobbly stop._

"_You don't trust me." She held his gaze, trying to ignore the cold stare._

"_I do a little. Now." Was the honest reply. "If you must know how events on Isato II concluded, the covenant died. I killed every last one. The other container was saved and so were its occupants, but still experience taught me a hard lesson that day, a lesson I have tried to pass on to you. Do with it what you will." He folded his hands behind his back. "And if you still don't think I trust you, ask yourself this, how many people do you think I have told this story, hmm?" Reaching over, he pressed the elevator's resume button._

_Jill was still pondering this when they arrived at the ship._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jill Valentine felt the unyielding metal deck clank beneath her as she disembarked from the small deployment shuttle, as she crouched near the shuttle's ramp she pulled her shotgun in one swift motion, the collapsible weapon coming to life in her hand. Her senses were at full alert, searching every corner of the dim landing bay that they found themselves in. Ahead of her, two Klausian commandos flanked an immense cargo door, their assault rifles held tightly against their gray armor, their dark visors shrouding the upper halves of their faces.  
Jill's eyes adjusted slowly, as they had just begun to adjust to the harsh red glare from this planet's massive red sun when they had descended down an immense artificial shaft that had been built to accommodate shuttlecraft. The research facility was nearly a mile underground, far from the harsh red light and skin melting radiation on the planet's surface. The distance underground coupled with the radiation from the nearby suns made sensor scans impossible, making it the perfect secret facility.  
The air was dry but hot, and a single drop of sweat fell from Jill's brow down between her eyes. She forced herself to breathe, her vivid imagination depicting unspeakable horrors in each shadow.  
Old one eye had told her he had been here once, on a fact finding mission. The story of immense black creatures that bled acid and possessed incredible strength and guile seemed too horrific to be real.  
The Klausian disembarked quietly, the only sound the slight buzzing of the revolver's cylinder spinning into place. His one eye scanned the landing pad and door methodically.  
Jill half turned to him, still pointing the shotgun at the door. "So these… things... We haven't seen them yet, do you think maybe they died out at some point in the last ten years?" She whispered her eyes still wary of any movement at the periphery of her vision.  
The Klausian didn't meet her gaze, but smiled a knowing smile. "We passed a half dozen on the way down the shaft."  
Jill swallowed. Neither she nor the shuttles admittedly limited sensors had seen anything on the short dark descent, but if he said it she knew it was the truth.  
"This mission hinges on how quickly we can reach and extract the target. If we have take too long or move too far into the facility we risk being cutoff and swarmed." He nodded his head. Another Klausian commando faced the door, his rifle at his shoulder. The commando on the right raised his Omni tool and began his hack.  
"Killing them at range is of the utmost importance, their claws and tail are incredibly lethal." Old one eye spoke softly, one hand resting on the butt of the now holstered revolver. "Aim for the head if you can, otherwise the joints. Elbow. Knee. Stopping them from closing the distance if possible. They have a pack mentality and will swarm you if they can, but even one on one they are formidable."  
The door hissed, then slid slowly open, years of grime and rust falling from the long closed door. Inside, only inky blackness awaited.

Somewhere deep inside, from the expanse of his dreams, the man who had once been known as Vincent Valentine stirred. They were close, maybe even planet side. Was this just a dream as well? It was so hard to tell anymore. With sheer force of will, the dreamer forced himself to try and waken.  
Something moved outside his medical stasis tank. One of them. The Xenomorphs. Vincent tried to force himself to move, but the effort was wasted. The warm fluid of the tank keeping him at a state of near total paralysis. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness again. The xenomorph looked through the glass of the tank, its slender black head tilted quizzically. Yet like so many others, it was conditioned, conditioned not to attack one of their own, and now that it looked close it saw one of its kin inside. A trick played on the creatures by the scientists that had once run this place, one of their many tasks had been finding a way to domesticate these creatures so that they could be used in battle, they did this by experimenting on Vincent, imbuing him with the very genes of the Xenomorphs, so that through some primal instinct they would recognize him as one of their own.  
Vincent, still fighting the sleep that would inevitably come, watched the creature turn away, all interest gone as it began to crawl listlessly across the wall. Suddenly it froze, its head tilted as if listening to some distant sound. With unnatural agility the beast sprung towards the door to the tank room. Emerging from the shadows, a dozen more followed suit, their minds linked in the sudden realization that they were not alone.  
After the last had left the room, the glowing red eyes in the tank darted to the borg implant where his left arm had once been, the original had also been a victim of his captors who wished to test the effects of borg implants on the human body. He tried to move, the energy expended was enormous. The arm continued to hang limply at his side. His borg implants had long since run out of energy.  
It was only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes closed once more, and this time they may not open again. Outside the tank, movement caught his eye. A young human woman walked outside the tank, her finger sliding lazily across the glass surface. Long red hair, brilliant green eyes, a knowing smile.  
For a moment, Vincent was convinced he was dreaming again. How else could the red haired woman from his recent dream about his office in C-sec be here? Casually her one hand tapped a panel next to Vincent's tank. It took a moment for the long dormant interface to light up, and even longer for electricity to begin to flow into through the cables attached to his arm, but when it did he could feel it. He was as aware of his implants as anyone was aware of their own limbs, maybe even more so. And as these components began to charge, he could feel hope kindle in his heart. Outside the tank, the red haired woman left the room without a sound.

- - - - - - - - -

"So what were they doing here?" Jill asked as they moved, her curiosity overriding caution for now. They had reached a security checkpoint, where the team technician was even now trying to hack the database with the hopes of finding their target.  
Old one eye shrugged. "Experiments. They wanted to create a super soldier I suppose. One thing I used to teach my students: There are no shortcuts to power.' He gave the grim half smile. "These people learned that the hard way."  
"So what are the odds we get our package and get out of here before those things come for us?"  
"Low. Maybe even nonexistent."  
Jill inhaled slowly, and was about to say something else, when she stopped short. She looked at Old one eye and held her breath. He was looking up at the low ceiling above them, his hand suddenly tight around the butt of the revolver. His one eye was tracking something unseen above them, his mouth set in a hard line. Without a word he drew his weapon and fired, his near supernatural speed dazzling her yet again. The bellow of the weapon making even the hardened Klausian commandos jump. Through the fairly large hole that had been blown in the ceiling, a dripping green substance fell, hissing loudly as it hit the floor.  
The echoes of the loud revolver blast died, and then all hell broke loose. The ceiling collapsed, and three creatures emerged, hissing as they clawed their way towards the intruders. Jill's training took over, and she fired, the shotgun blast vaporizing the first creatures head. The second and third were both taken by Old one eye, who fanned the hammer of the revolver twice, each bullet blowing a fist sized hole in the monstrosities. Two of the Klausian commandos turned to help, bringing their rifles up to bear, but at that second the door that led further into the facility opened, and the team technician was impaled on a long barbed tail that seemed to erupt from the dark passage. There was no grunt or scream of pain, rather the Klausian tried to wrench himself free, firing his side arm blindly through the door. Two sets of long black hands snaked out and drug him into the dark passage, the other two Klausian commandos arriving too late to help their comrade.

A loud thump sounded behind them, and Jill turned to fire, a curse escaping. Old one eye took one, blowing the creature's jaw off in a spray of green acid. The second was hers, and again the shell struck it square in the face.

They were being swarmed now, and the black skinned aliens were everywhere. One grappled with Old one eye, but he held at bay long enough to draw his sword, which he brought down in an arc that sawed the creature in half, the bright blade unaffected by the green acidic blood.

Jill fired until the thermal clip expired, each blast taking down an enemy in a brilliant spray. As she felt the clip expel from the weapon she threw it into the face of an approaching monster, buying her a second she used to pull her side arm. She fired in rapid succession as she pulled it free, gunning down the creature that had brushed the shotgun aside.

"Too many." She thought, a cold calm seizing her. "Not gonna make it." There was no panic in her as she slid a new thermal clip into her pistol. She could almost feel the hot breath of the hissing aliens. She took a step backward, trying to get more distance between her and the advancing creatures, and the air vent against the wall buckled. Seeing a chance, Jill threw her weight against the loose grate. It gave way, and she jumped through head first just as a number of black arms reached for her.

She fell for several seconds for reaching the bottom, the impact on her head making her lose consciousness for a moment.

What had happened to the others? She strained her ears for a moment, but she didn't hear any yelling or gunshots. A pang of regret struck as she realized she may have left them to die. A sudden scratching above her dispelled this thought as she realized if she could make it through the grate, the aliens above could as well. Grasping in the dark she found where her pistol had fallen, and tucking it back into its holster, she began to crawl, the silent dark awaited her.

…

Old one eye wasn't angered in the least at Jill's tactical retreat, quite the opposite, he was impressed with her quick thinking. He watched as his last commando fell to the claws of the Xenomorphs, checking the red rage that rose in him. He resisted the urge to pull his shotgun, knowing the shorter barrel would cause the deadly acidic blood to spray in an unpredictable fashion. Instead he cut the legs out from under one xenomorph, then decapitated another, nimbly avoiding the claws and tail strikes of the remaining aliens.

"Going badly." He thought. His mind processed tactical information at a rate inconceivable to other races. "Need to follow Ms. Valentine's example."

He drove his sword point through another xenomoprh's head, and the creature spasmed wildly even after the blade withdrew. He ducked as a tail tried to whip his head off, and sped off down the hall they had come. He could sense the creatures turning to give chase. Sheathing his sword, he drew the revolver again, reloading as he ran.

"If I can keep the main force following me, maybe that will allow Ms. Valentine time to locate our target. " The possibility that she was dead entered his mind, but he dismissed it. All he could do now was trust her. Behind him, the creatures followed.


End file.
